


Break, Burn, Slash, Turn

by Monobear (Popuko)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:23:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popuko/pseuds/Monobear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Were we born to fight and die? Sacrificed for one huge lie? Are we heroes keeping peace....or are we weapons pointed at the enemy so someone else can claim a victory....?'</p><p>One could imagine that even if you consider yourself the hero in someone's eyes, you're the villain in someone else's.<br/>A fantasy AU for Undertale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break, Burn, Slash, Turn

Once upon a time, there was a young boy and a young girl. 

The young boy was hopeful. He saw the world with wide eyes unexposed to the lies and treachery of man - for he had not been exposed to such. He wasn't idiotic in any way, simply naive.

The young girl was cynical. She saw the world with narrowed eyes viewing only the lies and treachery of man - for she had seen too much. She wasn't naive, nor was she idiotic, but she did have a way of not thinking things through entirely.

The young boy was the crown prince of his kingdom. The young girl was nothing, yet she often escaped into the castle to see him anyway. He considered her like a sister - she told him tales of the world outside the walls of the castle, the world he was unable to see, and he listened and told her of the ideas he'd had while being trapped within the walls, the ideas of peace, the ideals of a young boy as naive and gentle as he.

She, a beggar, an orphan, didn't dismiss them, but she never said anything to the ideas. She simply grew silent and distant. She knew he could not live that way forever, but as long as she could manage it, she'd make sure that he did. She swore an oath to herself that perhaps even the royal guard that kept a close watch over him couldn't live up to. Yet she remained _**determined**_ to keep it.

The boy had two parents - a father, a mother. Neither had much time for the child amongst their duties as royals, but whenever they could make the time, they did. He was loved. Cared about. That was how he grew to be affectionate - caring - naive. And that was what caused his downfall.

One day, the people attacked the kingdom. They were hungry, they said. They were angry, they said. The girl was amongst them. She'd known the peace wouldn't last forever in the kingdom as it was - despite the rulers efforts, they were almost as naive as their son was. Endlessly caring. If there was a pacifistic solution to end problems, they would take it.

They had been forced out beforehand by the few servants who were still loyal to them.

The boy remained.

The girl found the boy staring out a window in horror, asking 'why?' He didn't know. He couldn't imagine why they were angry, why they were rebelling when his parents tried so hard. The girl chose this moment to reveal the fact that the world wasn't as ideal as he thought, and that he would have to go, or he'd surely die. He refused. They wanted him. Perhaps he could solve what his parents couldn't. 

That was when the girl attacked him, slashing across his arm with the knife she'd brought in secrecy. "GO!" She screamed. "GO, BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF!" The boy stepped back, clutching at his arm, a terrified expression on his face. 'Why?' He asked once more. The girl began to rush him once more before he began to run away, the girl pausing as he ran, dropping the knife onto the ground and swallowing a potion she had managed to convince a still loyal alchemist to make. She took his form. 

And now she was a royal, and he, nothing. 

She faced the rebels in his guise, giving a speech of hope and peace, but they had none of it. They threw her in jail, awaiting execution. Yet, the boy had remained close, getting beggar's clothes, and he watched her approach the guillotine, smiling at him as if she knew.

"....Don't you have anything better to do?"

He watched with terrified eyes as her head fell into a basket, letting out a terrified scream. The rebels turned to face the scream, and quickly realized their mistake. The girl's sacrifice was for naught, for as he ran, even then, he was beaten, shot at, hurt with weapons and screams of anger, fury from people who loathed him for reasons he couldn't hope of understanding.  

Yet he escaped into the forest, and there, when he was on the brink of death, the alchemist found his body. Knowing the fact that only she was capable of helping him at that point, she took his body and left nothing but a bloodstain on the ground below.

The crown prince was never seen again. The royals eventually returned to power - at least, one did. The queen, distraught by the loss of her son, also disappeared, though rumors haunted the rebuilt kingdom that she had become a recluse on the edge of the forest where her son had gone missing, perhaps hoping that one day he'd return to her. 

The king was also haunted by the memories, unable to comprehend the loss of his son, he, himself, became a bit of a recluse. All he had to support the kingdom was the loyal assistance of the court magician who had stayed with him, and the old tactician that was even older than he that reassured him. The kingdom agreed they needed an heir, so the king picked an orphan amongst the populace to be the new heir.

This child - this young girl - was named Princess Frisk, and was just as innocent as the son he had lost. The decision was criticized - the child wasn't blood related, it should've been a son instead, and the rumors dogged the young girl that she was demented, insane, incapable of ruling the kingdom one day. She heard voices, they said. She'd told people that she heard voices of the dead. She never spoke of it anymore, but she never denied it, either.

And with the new child on the throne, there were rumors that a rebellion was rising from afar. A group of rebels who once more were opposed to the rule of the king and his new heir, and wanted to place their own leader in power - a rumored deranged criminal known only by the moniker of 'Prince of the Golden Flowers'. 

The king perhaps lost all ability to fight, despite still having followers that were loyal to his cause and his rule. The future was left to the young princess.

Her capability was questioned, but they had no other choice.

Princess Frisk was perhaps the only future Ungralia had.


End file.
